Daytripping
by LilacFree
Summary: AU, follows on from my 'Valentine's Day After'. Tegan is better and it's time for the Doctor to leave. But they have a few things to say to each other first.
1. Chapter 1: Uphill

Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who. I don't even have any celery in my refrigerator. Send money to the BBC.

Author's Note: This is AU continuing from 'Valentine's Day After'. The Doctor takes Tegan to her grandfather Andrew Verney in the village of Little Hodcombe when she wishes to leave after the events of 'Resurrection of the Daleks'. She had taken a head wound in that episode and the Doctor stays a while to make sure that she's suffered no serious injury. There is a decision to be made…

Chapter 1: Uphill

Tegan had had a nap in the afternoon, but she was still tired. Despite that and even though it was late, she didn't want to go to bed. She lingered by the fire, toasting her bare feet, while the Doctor sat in her grandfather's armchair. He had played chess with Andrew Verney then absorbed himself with a Dickens novel.

The Doctor reached the end of the book. He closed it and looked down at Tegan sitting on the floor. "Don't you think you should go to bed, Tegan?"

"It won't be the same without you waking me up every two hours, Doctor."

"Very amusing," said the Doctor, meaning the opposite. "Humans need regular sleep periods. Is there something on your mind?"

Tegan stared into the fire. Was it fair to have a sense of deja vu about something you knew you'd said before? "I'm not coming with you." She'd been putting off saying it. It was good to know that she and the Doctor had reached a place where they could be friends quietly sitting together. Companions, indeed.

"Ah." The Doctor found himself without anything suitable to say. Tegan's decision was not exactly a surprise.

"I've got to find a way to live with the memories. Maybe dashing off to the next thing works for you, but I felt like I was going under." She wondered how much sense that made, but she wasn't good with words and she didn't want to hurt him. Tegan drew her feet back and stood up. The firelight cast inconstant shadows on the Doctor's face, and his fringe added more obscurity to his expression. "I will miss you and Turlough—well, maybe not Turlough so much." She took one step nearer to him, but no more. Nyssa had kissed him on the cheek in her farewell, but those two had had a close and harmonious relationship: at least avuncular if not outright paternal on the Doctor's side. "If you're gone in the morning, I'll understand, Doctor. I know you hate saying good-bye."

The Doctor also hated being anticipated. "I'll have to find Turlough first. He left at noon and I don't think he's back yet." Turlough had made a friend on their last visit to Little Hodcombe. It would be vulgar to speculate, but he was fairly sure it was the local boy David that Turlough was interested in, not his pretty sister. Turlough certainly deserved a break as much as Tegan did.

"Goodnight, Doctor." Tegan headed up to her room. The Doctor watched her go and it would have taken a keen observer to make out any particular expression on his face.

"Tegan, girl, what on Earth are you looking for?"

If Tegan Jovanka had to be caught with her head under a bed and her bum sticking up in the air, she was glad it was by her grandfather.

Of course, she bumped her head against a slat. "Ow! It's not what I'm looking, it's what I've found," she grumbled, "Don't you ever dust under here? Hmph. You do not." She crawled backwards, dragging out a pair of hiking boots that were gray with dust. "It's like a dust bunny warren under there."

Andrew Verney went right past the evidence of his limited housekeeping. "Was it worth bumping your head again? Are you all right?"

"It was just a little bump. I've got a hard head," she looked up at him and added, "It runs in the family."

"Just the same, you'd better have that Doctor look at it."

"_The_ Doctor," Tegan corrected.

"Any doctor would do. What do you think you're doing with those?"

"These are hiking boots. I'm going for a walk before I go stir crazy. Look out the window: it's a beautiful morning! Hardly any snow left."

"Two days ago you were an invalid, now you want to go jaunting around the countryside?" Verney asked incredulously.

"Looks like."

"You're too old to be locked in and you'd only go out the window anyway. There never was any getting you to mind," her grandfather complained, his accent broadening. "But if you don't tell your Doctor what you're up to, I will. He's up the hill again."

"Thought I'd ask him along. He likes long walks." Tegan's grandfather hmphed and left her dusting off the hiking boots. She put them on. Like the old jeans she was wearing, they were only a little tight. Time travel had not put any extra meat on her bones but she wasn't going to write to a style magazine and recommend mortal peril as a diet. _Cybermen set a steady pace but for an intense workout nothing beats a Dalek. Christ, that's sick humor, Tegan._ "Sounds like something Turlough might say if he weren't skin and bones to start with," she muttered. _And now you're talking to yourself. OUT_. Tegan went.

It was almost nine o'clock in the morning and still cold even though the sky was a rare clear blue. The sun shone down brightly on the Doctor's blond hair. As her grandfather had said, he was standing on the crest of a hill up past the TARDIS. There was a nice view of Little Hodcombe but why was it holding his interest? Unless he was thinking about something else. From a spot near the TARDIS, Tegan took a moment to watch him. His clothes were entirely of this planet, but they were not of this time. Everything visible about the Doctor was human and yet he looked unearthly. Maybe it was the halo of sunshine, but Tegan found herself thinking that he looked like an angel. Except for the wind ruffling his hair and making his coat tails flap like disguised wings, he was perfectly still. Not of this world; just stepped through a doorway in space and time; trailing glory, hands tucked in his trouser pockets.

Tegan giggled and then quickly covered her mouth, ducking behind the TARDIS. She didn't want to disturb him. She was afraid of what might come out of her mouth if they spoke. Her mind didn't feel like it was completely in her (still sore) head and her tongue might let anything slip. What couldn't she say to him, now that he was about to leave? Nothing she could say would make any difference. Her mood abruptly slid down away from the giddy end of the scale. Why wasn't he gone? Turlough must not be back.

She knew these woods. Picking out a path that would keep her out of sight of the hilltop, she moved from the cover of the TARDIS. Away from the cottage, away from the village, away from the Doctor: away, gone, but not fled. She wanted to believe that sun and wind could between them make her feel again that the world was a good place to live in.

What was that sound? A voice… the Doctor drew himself back into the present. It could only be more pleasant than his contemplation of the immediate past, full of death, destruction, and futility. Someone had giggled? Yes; and only one person had that exact husky voice. He'd known her for so long, he thought he could recognize Tegan in the dark from her voice alone if all she did was draw a deep breath.

Little Hodcombe spread itself before the Doctor's gaze, now that he actually looked at it. He preferred it at night, in the snow under the stars. In the daytime, he couldn't help but remember how the Malus had hidden itself in this deceptively idyllic spot. Sol was very bright today; the glare was giving the Doctor a bit of a headache. His biofeedback techniques weren't managing it very well. He rubbed his head. Turlough had left a note telling the Doctor he was staying with David's family and would check back to see if the Doctor was ready to go. No mention about Turlough being ready to go—fell on his feet like a cat, Turlough did.

Something was missing. The Doctor looked downhill; he had expected Tegan to join him, having heard her voice. Instead, he saw Andrew Verney standing outside his front door, frowning off to the left. Having had quite enough introspection, the Doctor left his hilltop and went down to speak to Tegan's grandfather. "Is something wrong?"

"That … stubborn wench of a grandchild. Gone running off into the woods. Didn't she ask you to go with her?"

"No, she didn't speak to me."

"And bumped her head again—oh, it was likely nothing, but after all the trouble you had sitting up with her, she should have said something."

"I'll go after her. I'm sure it's quite safe ordinarily, but extraordinary things do happen." The Doctor looked at the prints in the mud. She'd stood by the TARDIS—she'd ducked behind it to avoid his sight. And laughed at him on top of it. He felt like having a few words with Miss Tegan Jovanka.

The Time Lord strode off. If he heard Andrew Verney's mutter of "especially around you" he took no visible notice.

She was going at a good clip despite the occasional slipperiness of the ground wet from snowmelt. The air smelt crisp and fresh and Tegan felt like a fog was lifting from her spirit with every intake of breath. Or maybe it was the sun, gaily shining down upon her as though nothing evil could possibly happen in such a bright, beautiful world as this. Which was a lie, a lie by the clock, a lie by everything Tegan had known lately. Was there really some part of her that still believed that this was the real world and that the other was the illusion? Was there something left in her that was innocent and naïve? Tegan stumbled over a stone and barely kept from tripping. A hand grabbed her elbow and kept her upright. She never did handle surprise gracefully—she leapt like a startled deer. Somewhere in the jerky motion she turned and slipped and ended up with her back against a tree staring at the Doctor like he was a mugger. "Hell's teeth!" There was going to be more to the shout, but she was breathless.

_How did they manage to do this to each other after all this time_? They were friends—the kind of friends who rowed then made up with good will, only to find themselves fighting again. She could bring him up short like no one he could think of since his Academy days. Even when she was wrong, which, to be just, was not always the case. There were moments like these, when despite his best intentions, the Doctor found himself at point non plus with regard to Tegan Jovanka. "Sorry, Tegan, I didn't mean to startle you but I didn't want you to fall."

Here was her cue: time to rant and tell him she didn't need looking after or following; nor to be minded like a child by the high and mighty Time Lord. All Tegan had to do was stoke up a steam head of anger and let it blast. The usual routine.

As she stared at him, he began to look worried instead of apologetic and Tegan threw away the script. "I'm sorry," she said quietly.

"Er, sorry for what exactly, Tegan?" The Doctor stumbled over the words. Probably he'd been expecting a rant.

"I didn't want to disturb you, on the hilltop. You looked…" preoccupied, remote, alien, "Like you didn't want to be disturbed," she finished lamely.

"I think I would have welcomed it, to be honest."

"You meant it, didn't you, when you said you liked long walks?" She started walking again, her pace slow with invitation. The Doctor followed her.

"I do like long walks, but when did I say that?" He also found it pleasant to walk and talk with a friend. _It's a pity Tegan and I haven't done this before.  
_

"That time with the rats and the Telireptils, remember, the ones with the fancy android," she reminded him. "Adric piloted the TARDIS to us. You said you would have preferred the long walk back to the TARDIS. You were being sarcastic so I wasn't sure if you meant that part."

The Doctor chuckled. "I'm afraid my temper was foul after losing the sonic screwdriver. One day I really must build another one. And they were Terileptils, Tegan."

"Why haven't you made another already, if you were so fond of it?"

"It would take a great deal of effort to build from scratch. There's a place I could go to get the components but it would take a lot of planning and other things keep coming up."

"And--?"

"And what?" the Doctor inquired rather haughtily.

Tegan looked at him sidelong. "That's not the only reason you haven't remade it."

The Doctor paused his steps. Tegan's flashes of insight were rare and always a surprise to him. Sometimes he wondered if she just kept quiet about them, even though she was usually outspoken. Tegan kept walking at a steady pace and he let her go a pace or two ahead of him before continuing. "I missed it too much. I don't like to be dependent on gadgets. I'd rather depend on my wits. Keeps me sharp."

She flashed a grin over her shoulder at him. "What do you call the TARDIS? Isn't that a gadget?"

"I can't very well travel through the vortex without her," he answered dryly.

"I was only teasing. Yeah, the screwdriver was a toy. The TARDIS is…"

He kept silent, waiting, then frowned when he realized she wasn't going to finish the sentence. It seemed to be that kind of day for her. "Is what?"

Tegan ducked under a tree branch without breaking stride. The Doctor found it easier to go around, and lost more ground to her.

_Is what?_ Tegan wondered. She hated it when the words failed to come. She felt stupid, and if she got angry it was more at the brain that sat like a lump of inert lard in her skull than at anyone around her. But the anger was not coming today. It was lagging at her heel, unable to catch up to her tongue and make her spit out sarcastic rejoinders. She turned and waited for the Doctor to come up to her, noting his slightly annoyed expression.

"Is. Like, like a person. Or an animal. Not a pet, or livestock." Tegan felt like she was dragging the words out of her mind like a fisherman drawing a water heavy net full of wriggling fish from the sea. "A shepherd dog or a guard dog. Something that works and deserves respect and not to be just thrown away or lost." She waved a hand in frustration. The fish were getting away and slipping back into the sea and leaving her covered with scales and fishguts. "Sort of," she concluded inconclusively and hot-faced. Tegan abruptly turned her back on the Doctor and edged into forward motion. She didn't want to walk rudely away from him, only not to have to look at his patient expression as he untangled meaning from her speech. I Stupid, stupid, air hostess. Serve tea and say thank you. Haven't you learnt anything from all that time spent with geniuses/I She kicked viciously at a stone.

"The TARDIS isn't easily classified. But you are right, it does have a degree of autonomy and deserves respect," he said at her shoulder. "Where are we going, again?"

"I never said. What makes you think we're going anywhere?"

"You're headed in a specific direction, but not following a path. When you veer away from your heading because of obstacles, you return to the original course."

Tegan stared at him open-mouthed. He raised a polite eyebrow at her and she snapped her jaws shut. She hadn't planned on going somewhere. _Oh. There._ "A place I liked as a kid." She hesitated over the next words, looking into timeless blue eyes. They were perfectly human by appearance, but sometimes she thought she could feel the weight of centuries in his gaze. "When I visited here as a kid I used to go running all over these hills and pretend…" Tegan trailed off. It was an area where she often felt uncomfortable with the Doctor. She hated saying anything that reminded him that her childhood was only about a decade past. Ten years was the blink of an eye to a Time Lord.

Ah, he wasn't to know what she'd pretended. The Doctor rubbed a hand over his head and dismissed his irritation. _Dreams are private, Doctor._ She had said that to him once. For all that she was notoriously outspoken, there had always been something reserved about Tegan. The Doctor had gotten to know her ways and could usually anticipate her (and occasionally tease her, though Tegan was so easily baited that it was hardly sport) but there were some aspects of her personality he had never understood, especially her anger. What fueled that temper of hers? If he didn't find out today, he'd probably never find out. Now that Tegan was safe, it was time to leave. But he did, indeed, like long walks.

"My mum used to read me from Winnie-the-Pooh," she volunteered suddenly, deliberately not looking at him. "And this was my Hundred Acre Wood. And other places." _Narnia. The Forest Sauvage. Mirkwood._ It occurred to Tegan that the only man she'd ever met who would understand this was the alien walking beside her. I_'ll decide later if that's a good or a bad thing._ "I called it my Thinking Place."

"How could I not like that? Lead on, then!" The Doctor smiled at her and wisely forebore to comment on any resemblance between Tegan and Eeyore.

They were headed uphill again. It didn't seem as if anyone had been this way in a while, the wood was rather overgrown with scrubby bushes. Tegan's small stature proved to be an advantage as she ducked under branches and bypassed brambles. The Doctor's coattail got caught by a thorny runner and Tegan turned back to help him.

"You're quite nimble without high heels, Tegan. I don't believe I've ever seen you wear any other footgear."

"I knew it would be muddy. Look at your shoes. I hope the TARDIS can cope with that."

Muddy shoes didn't fret the Doctor. "Why did you wear them so often? And in quite unsuitable conditions, too."

Tegan stood back and let him cope with the thorns by himself. He was almost free anyway. "I could tell you it's because it was always an emergency and I didn't have time to go find sensible shoes. But the thing is, I'm short."

The Doctor said leadingly, "You're not especially tall, no, but is that really important? Height is relative. You're taller than an ant and shorter than an elephant—"

"And two inches under the height requirement to be an air hostess. I had a family connection with pull, and once I was in they didn't go measuring me again. But all that time I wore high heels even when I wasn't in uniform. Literally, something to live up to. And I guess I got to feeling… that I needed them to measure up. So I'd run for my life in spike heeled shoes and then have the nerve to complain about sore feet. I told you long ago—mouth on legs, me." Tegan grinned at the Doctor then starting walking again.

The Doctor followed. Beside his amusement was the realization that Tegan was talking so freely now because they would soon be parted. As much as Tegan irritated him sometimes, he was fond of her. Even in the beginning, when she'd been desperate to get back home, she'd shown great bravery. Many of the reckless things she'd done had been because she was trying to save someone's life—often his. Tegan never seemed to trust him to look after himself. And of course, here he was, not trusting her to look after herself; following her through woods she'd known as a child. She must be well: she was full of energy, keeping ahead of him although his strides were longer and he really couldn't understand how she could do it in such tight trousers—a mystery better left unfathomed. The Doctor extended his stride when the undergrowth cleared and made room enough for him to walk next to Tegan.

At the top of the hill was a bit of stony ledge. It was exposed to sun and wind and therefore dry, when most of the surrounding earth was damp and mucky. Tegan stopped at the edge of the stony area and scraped at her hiking boots with a stick to get most of the mud off before climbing up onto the ledge. The Doctor followed her example. "Now, young lady, you can let me check your head. Your grandfather said you bumped it."

"It was nothing, honestly. I feel fine," Tegan protested, but was docile enough when the Doctor ran his fingers through her hair then checked her pupils.

"No soreness?" He didn't see anything to worry about, if she felt well.

"It's a bit tender where the cut is, but it feels better than yesterday. Better than yours, by the way you keep rubbing your head."

"The glare is bothering me a little." His tone was a trifle pettish. It was annoying that his usual techniques for controlling pain weren't working. He should be able to banish a simple headache at will.

"If you'd let me—no, that won't work."

Was the blasted woman incapable of finishing a sentence today? "What won't work?"

Tegan was looking around at the ledge they stood on. She crouched and felt the stone. "Not too cold. It gets sun here nearly all day. I could rub your temples, if you would-- I mean I can't-- oh, just lie down and put your head in my lap." Tegan sat down with a thump and glared up at him.

There was room, and the ledge was reasonably flat and clean. Tegan was looking at him as if expecting him to refuse, but her suggestion was quite practical. The warmth of her fingers would stimulate circulation and help ease the constriction of muscles and blood vessels. Besides, he'd done it for her. "Turnabout is fair play, I take it." Tegan's scowl lifted as he lowered himself close by.

The Doctor stretched out on the rock, his upper body raised on his elbows. Tegan scooted a little closer. After a bit of maneuvering, the Doctor's head came to rest on her thigh. She gently smoothed his hair back from his forehead and started to stroke very soft circles at his temples. His eyes closed. "That does feel soothing. Thank you, Tegan."

"You're welcome."

A few minutes later, Tegan realized that the Doctor had fallen asleep. She thought it wasn't merely the glare that caused his headache. His face should be relaxed, but he looked faintly troubled—or maybe it was just the odd angle. She'd never looked at the tall Time Lord from this perspective before. Tegan kept her fingers moving in circles and let her mind wander similarly.

tbc


	2. Chapter 2: Slippery Slope

AN: The Doctor quotes Alexander Pope. The Doctor denies any intent of violating the copyright of Alexander Pope. Information on Australian aboriginal culture has been gleaned by Internet research. I have purposely only made scanty references in hopes of avoiding some vile error.

On a bit of stony ledge, cresting the top of a small hill in the north of England, a tableau had formed. A lady sat vigil over her fallen knight. That the lady was dressed in anorak, sweater, jeans, and ancient hiking boots made no more difference to the tableau than the undeniable fact that her knight was a cricket-obsessed alien with a penchant for celery and time travel. For this given moment, the companions were knight and lady and the sun that shone and the wind that blew were sufficiently ageless even for the purposes of a Time Lord.

Sun aside, it was still a winter's day and Tegan's bum was beginning to complain about her stony seat. Her fingers drew tiny circles on the Doctor's temples and his fringe kept getting in the way. His head was propped on her thigh. He was either asleep or in one of his trances. All she knew was that he lay still and his eyes were closed. She kept up the motion and let her gaze drift across the landscape. She'd last visited this hill six years ago by the calendar. How long by actual time, she wasn't sure. TARDIS travel made a mockery of the rule of calendars. The perception of time was inconstant. Sometimes she had felt as if her journey had lasted decades, at least, but now that it was over it felt like time spent in a dream.

When she had been left behind at Heathrow after the Concorde incident, time that had been standing still suddenly rushed forward carrying her along willy-nilly. Aunt Vanessa's funeral had been an awful, awkward day. When it was over, she thought she'd woken up and had begun to live again. She had changed; of course she had changed. Who could step foot in the TARDIS and live the Doctor's life and come away unchanged? _She was still there._ A million years in the past, a million years in the future: there she was no matter how long she lived a day after day life in this era. That's what it meant to be a time traveler. _Dreamtime_. Tegan shivered. In her early life in Australia she had spent a lot of time with the local aboriginal tribe. She'd chattered away with the children and picked up language as children did, naturally and without thinking.

Tegan didn't consider herself fluent in the language or that she understood the people and their beliefs. Some of them were her friends, just that, and she had listened to their stories. Dreamtime. She had walked among the stars like a Sky Hero. _Oh, Tegan. You have a Sky Hero in your lap. Isn't he like a myth come to life?_ Tegan looked down at the Doctor's face, leaning forward a trifle and trying not to disturb him. She fancied he looked more peaceful now. _He's also like a man. Just like a man: an attractive blond-haired blue-eyed man._ Awareness of this simple, obvious fact stirred up feelings she hadn't experienced for quite some time. She lifted her fingers away from his forehead.

She found it much easier to argue with the Doctor than be attracted to him. For one thing, she had a much better chance of winning an argument. _So if I was in the Dreaming, and I left part of myself there forever, does that mean I'm arguing with him forever? Poor Doctor._

There was a dark place in her head where she stuffed pointless feelings of bitterness and regret at the opportunities she had wasted. She pictured it looking like a black hole. After having been rude to Adric over piloting the TARDIS, the Doctor had made amends by acceding to Adric's request to observe a black hole. The Doctor had taken them close to one and showed them the star-swallowing pit from the TARDIS observatory. Adric had gone on at length about something he called a CVE and Tegan had tuned him out while she gazed upon the horrible, majestic sight. It had been Nyssa the soft-spoken who had snapped at Adric and shaken off the Doctor's offer of comfort.

Tegan had followed Nyssa to their room and held the Traken girl through a rare storm of tears. They were so very unlike: dignified Nyssa and hot-tempered Tegan. The two young alien women had formed a bond over shared stories. Nyssa had tales of lost Traken and Nyssa's father Tremas whose body the Master had stolen. Tegan had been more talkative. She told Nyssa about her family and Australia and flight school and boyfriends. And she had told Nyssa about the Mara in the Dreaming and how she had learned that it was bad to be alone but worse to be alone with yourself.

Tegan's throat tightened. Nyssa had been the best friend Tegan had ever known. Traken had sounded like Utopia: a gentle, mannered culture that loved art and beauty but didn't scorn science. Nyssa was at once a genius and a lady to her fingertips. Her ability to cope with the staggering tragedy of the destruction of her whole world had helped Tegan live with her own pain. It had been easy to like Nyssa; and Nyssa had claimed she liked Tegan because she owned her emotions: that Tegan helped her express her own grief and anger.

Tegan privately thought the best thing she'd ever done for Nyssa was show her how to have a bit of fun now and then. She hoped that it was true and that Nyssa would not bury herself in work on Terminus and forget to take time for herself.

The Doctor had never shown whether he missed Nyssa, but he had been busy after her departure coping with Turlough and the Black Guardian. Nyssa had kissed the Doctor good-bye, chastely on the cheek like a birthday kiss to a favorite uncle. He seemed moved but uncertain as how to respond. If he'd been human he probably would have hugged Nyssa but instead he hung back with visible distress as he watched Nyssa and Tegan clinging together.

She should do it, before he left. Just hug him, because no matter how little Time Lords might be interested in sex, a kiss from her was different than a kiss from Nyssa. Hug him, because who would care enough to and have the nerve to do it if she didn't? And unless he and Nyssa had gotten up to things she didn't think either them were up to while she was gone, his body that was practically new might never be touched by more than a casual handshake or pat on the shoulder.

"Hmph," said Tegan quite grouchily and reflected that for all the time she'd known the Doctor she hadn't had sex either and for a while before that. During her hiatus from the TARDIS, she'd had opportunities, but she found it hard to be intimate when she couldn't talk about the most amazing thing that had ever happened to her. That wasn't going to change. A part of her would always be out in the Dreaming, and she'd never be whole… _Shite. Go on like that and you may as well hang yourself. Things come to an end. If you ever felt anything for the Doctor besides the silly fancy of being in love with him, you'll honor what his friendship has meant to you by making the most of your life._ Tegan sneered at herself. _Drama. All those times you were nearly killed and here you are alive. Say good-bye to the Doctor with a smile. Hug him. Why not kiss him on the cheek? Or the lips. You want him to remember you, after all._ Tegan's lips curved into a wry smile. "Just have to get up the nerve."

"The nerve for what?"

The Doctor's eyes were open and watching her face as she blushed like a fool. She hadn't meant to say that out loud even thinking he was asleep.

How long had he been asleep? It seemed he'd nodded off shortly after taking in the comforting heat of her thigh under his neck. The contact with her higher body temperature had been therapeutic in its own right and the stroke of her fingers on his forehead had made the headache drain away. Gallifreyans were telepathic, but usually only with effort and as in this case, touch. He could feel a glow of simple affection coming from his long-time companion and it was as soothing as the physical warmth of her body. His eyes had closed; he'd fallen asleep within minutes.

Perhaps a better question was: how long had he been awake? She had awakened him, not by sound or motion, but by a sense of distress. Since that moment he had lain quietly in her lap, watching what he could see of her face and thereon the swift rise and alteration of emotions that never ceased to amaze him. Humans were living flames, burning their lives away with reckless abandon. Tegan was one of the most volatile people he ever met who still managed to be a decent, compassionate person. She wasn't as cynical as she made out.

"Just have to get up the nerve," she said, her voice stressed with an intent he couldn't quite identify. He certainly wouldn't intrude on her mind deliberately.

"The nerve to what?"

"To kiss you." _Shite._ Her tongue was not to be trusted today. Tegan waited for the burn of embarrassment to spread over her face again. The blush failed to appear; she found herself simply looking at the Doctor.

He sat up and stared at her. The wind played with her short dark hair and the sunshine teased out the auburn tones. For once there wasn't a speck of makeup on her face and she was still beautiful. The Doctor began to assemble some sensible words and when he found out they made no sense he started making a joke. By the time he realized it wasn't funny, he was leaning in close to Tegan. The tip of his nose brushed hers and their breath mingled. Blue eyes looked into brown. Communication was occurring on a level far below conscious thought. He didn't have to analyze how the uptilt of her face signified invitation. He accepted with a kiss.

Tegan couldn't have moved for the end of the world. The noisy part of her mind was gabbling things to which she did not want to listen. The kiss was exquisitely gentle and neither of them closed their eyes. The sunshine seemed warmer than ever, but his shadow on her face was as cool as his lips.

Her lips were hot, fever hot, a cushion that gave under the pressure of his mouth. Behind that intriguing softness he felt the line of her teeth and felt himself poised to seek entrance.

But he would not. This had gone on long enough, indeed, far too long. The Doctor pulled back from the kiss. Tegan drew in a sharp breath. Her pupils were dilated and her lips were slightly swollen. The ever-present scientist in his head lectured about hormones and blood pressure and the anatomy of arousal in the human female.

What science did not cover was the expression on Tegan's face as she waited for him to speak. Because he was going to speak. He was going to apologize and say—but she knew what he would say. He could see her waiting for the list of perfectly good reasons why this kiss had been a foolish impulse.

The Doctor was silent. Tegan lifted her chin and squared her small shoulders and looked ready to bear up under his patronizing recital of things she already knew.

Instead, he kissed her again. He cupped her skull and slid his fingers into her hair. His thumb stroked her jaw asking her to yield to madness a second time. His mouth drank in the warmth of hers though he did not yet go further than the touch of lips.

_He wants to kiss me._ That thought temporarily silenced all the nervous voices in her head. The disbelief of the first kiss faded with the second. The mouth pressed to hers said more plainly than words that the Doctor knew what he wanted and how to get it. Tegan didn't want to listen to her thoughts. They weren't helping; they only said things she already knew:

_ I'm kissing an alien. The Doctor is kissing me. I'm kissing a man wearing a cricket jacket with celery in his lapel. He's centuries old. I always liked older men._

_ He's going to stop this any minute. He's going to go away and I'll never see him again._

That's when Tegan cupped the Doctor's face with her hands and kissed the Time Lord back with a vengeance. There was a summary dismissal of thought.

The Doctor hated backing down from a challenge. That's not why he kept kissing Tegan. At this point, he had to admit to himself what was quite obvious. He was kissing her because he wanted to kiss her. He was kissing her despite the fact that all good sense indicated that it was a bad idea. And since he was going to kiss her despite that, by Rassilon! he was going to do it properly.

A kiss can be like exploring a new world. You can take climate readings, but it doesn't tell you how the sun feels on your skin and how the land bears you up. The planet is solid underfoot, but it is a lie. All those tons of rock and water are falling through the void of space. You know this but space is empty and the world fills your senses. _This_ is the world: the yielding lips, the press of teeth and the velvet stroke of tongue on tongue. The mutual embrace that adapts without thought until two are almost one and the impossibility of passing the barrier of clothes and skin serves as a goad to desire.

Tegan's breath and courage ran out at about the same moment. She broke the kiss, then dropped her face into the crook of the Doctor's neck. She didn't want to look at him just yet. If she listened right now, could she hear two hearts beating a little faster? _And what's that smell? Oh._

The Doctor stroked the back of Tegan's head and wondered if she were crying. It didn't quite seem like Tegan, to simply break into tears. Slap him, perhaps, but not cry.

"Doctor?" Her voice was huskier than ever. He braced himself.

"I broke your celery." Tegan lifted her head. The celery stalk would never be the same.

"Small loss," the Doctor said cheerfully. He detached it from his lapel and tossed it downhill. _Hormones. You do remember now that you have them?_ His emotional state was quite giddy and his intellect readied itself to control his reaction to the change in body chemistry. They both sat back.

"So what's with this kissing?"

"You didn't like it?" the Doctor inquired archly.

"Of course I did," Tegan said indignantly.

Ah, the indignation of Tegan Jovanka. Classic! Her voice got that strange note and her eyes narrowed. He couldn't resist teasing her. "It was your idea, after all."

"Only my idea? You were pretty quick to do something about it."

Yes, he had been, hadn't he? "But you liked it," he pointed out evasively.

"And you didn't?"

Why was she being difficult? It was much easier to kiss Tegan Jovanka than argue with her, obviously. Everything had gone along swimmingly until she'd run out of breath. "Certainly, I enjoyed it." The Doctor's voice performed an odd little dip and rise. _Stress._ "It's the sort of thing one does not do unless one enjoys it." He offered the gambit of conversation like a cape at a bull, offering another target for attack apart from himself.

Tegan had thought she'd gotten past her temper, but anger had caught up and now led the way. "I suppose it's just a natural progression, considering you couldn't keep your hands off me," she said, her chin poking out.

It might have been an ancient and gender-biased saying, but Tegan really was beautiful when she was angry. There was a glow to her skin and her eyes—

"I don't know what you're talking about," the Doctor said, honestly bewildered.

"Your little habit of escorting me about, a hand on the back or the arm."

"You're complaining because I was chivalrous?" he asked incredulously.

She shook her head. "You almost never touched the others like that. Even Nyssa. And it wasn't always polite. Just a couple of days ago you cuffed the back of my head. It's a wonder I've any wits left after the last few days."

"Really, I think you're exaggerating. When was this?"

"The TARDIS had just materialized. We were all clinging to the console after the turbulence in the Time Corridor. You passed behind me and slapped the back of my head," Tegan said, sounding ill-used. _I should have just kissed him again. I KNEW if we started talking it would be over._

The Doctor opened his mouth to claim innocent intent, when an image flashed in front of his eyes. Tegan, bracing herself across the console in that short black leather skirt pulled taut and glossy across the curves of her hips. Her top had ridden up a little in the back and exposed the shadowy hollow of her spine. And he had touched her impulsively, displacing the temptation to pat her on the rump with a playful cuff to the head. His mouth snapped shut.

"Oh, bloody hell, I was right." Anger deserted Tegan in the wilderness and she didn't know which way to go.

He sat quietly for a moment longer while his efficient memory presented a catalogue of little gestures and touches over the span of his acquaintance with Tegan. And back further, a very dim memory that was peculiarly his alone out of all his incarnations: his time as the Watcher, partially embodied as an entity before his regeneration actually occurred. He had been given limited existence to warn and assist his fourth self.

She had been present at the first bifurcation. He had been observing the TARDIS but his attention was drawn to the little human drama of Tegan, her aunt, and their struggle to change the flat tire. The older woman had actually waved at him and he saw darkness approaching her. "It's the 1980s, Aunt Vanessa," Tegan had said. "There are no knight errants." She had looked over her shoulder, but he could tell she did not see him.

He was himself only present through a time distortion, and his locus in time was not fixed. He had only been waiting for his past self to step out of the TARDIS and catch sight of the ominous apparition. From the Watcher's vantage point, it was impossible to miss that these two women were going to influence him. The older woman was going to die. The younger woman was going to leave her life in another fashion entirely. In his unique state of being, he could perceive the twisting of the time stream as she stepped into the TARDIS and the door closed behind her. Then Vanessa had gone to the TARDIS, only to meet the Master. He was the Watcher. He had no power to save her. In his past she was already dead.

The Doctor looked away from Tegan. The memory of witnessing her aunt's murder had scarred this incarnation from the beginning but he had never before accessed it.

Tegan laid her hand on the Doctor's shoulder. He looked so troubled. She shouldn't have tried to insist on the human view of sex. What did it matter if she were right if it made him unhappy? "I'm sorry. My awful temper again."

He turned back to her. His voice took on the bass tones of one of his serious moods. "I always thought you were beautiful." The young woman's eyes widened. She should be surprised. He had teased her, manipulated her, argued with her, and pretended that he didn't feel attraction towards her. Of course she had known it. The body language of sexual attraction was similar in most humanoid societies and this went for Gallifrey as well as Earth. She would have felt the give and take of response on an instinctual level. That he did not act on it was his privilege. Now he had acted, and the matter was out in the open.

"I had never intended to do anything about it. I don't believe I have to go into why." The Doctor watched her nod solemnly. The sorrow in her eyes reminded him of the aborted leave-taking in the warehouse only two days ago.

"I guess I could come up with a few dozen reasons as to why it wouldn't work out," she said with dry humor.

"So why did I kiss you? Because I wanted to. Why now? Because you're leaving. Because you wanted it. Because there'll never be a better chance."

"That's terrible," Tegan said, one hand flailing the air.

"You chose to leave," the Doctor tried not to sound exasperated.

"I didn't mean that. It's only—you don't—" She shook her head as if trying to knock her thoughts into place. "It's terrible you don't let anyone touch you. There you are, a practically new body and it's hardly been… touched. Hugged. Loved. Unless it has and I should just shut up now," the last words burbled out of Tegan's mouth as it occurred to her, too late as usual, that he might have had a private life. By definition, one private from her, and one involving the snogging of any number of women or whatever gender of willing adult.

The Doctor said gently, "I know touch is very important to humans, Tegan. Infants can actually die without touch. But I'm—"

"Not human, I know, I KNOW! And I still say… it's a damned shame, Doctor. What did you say to that Cyberleader? Something about enjoying the simple pleasures of life? Well, you're missing out on at least one of them. Are you flesh and blood, or aren't you?"

"I think that's been proven today. So, Tegan, what does it matter? Do you want me to kiss you again? I will, if you like." The Doctor smiled at his longtime companion, trying to get her to smile back.

"And do you? Like?"

"Yes."

Tegan kneeled in front of him and cupped his face in her hands. "Since you ask so nicely, Doctor, I'd be glad to kiss you," she said. She gave a low, shaky chuckle and leaned in to trace the outline of his mouth with warm little kisses. Then she started placing them over the rest of his face with a kind of playfulness he couldn't remember seeing in her before. Here and there, always returning to his lips with increasing heat and passion. Except when her kisses landed near his eyes, he kept them open. The freedom she exhibited revealed something he had always missed in her.

He'd always expected, with her looks and her age and native era, that she'd be comfortable with her sexuality. But she had never flirted to get her way, or traded on her beauty. Tegan was hardheaded and forthright and tried to pull her weight even when the situation was over her head. A tomboy, she was, even in perpetual high heels and makeup. Now she was revealing how female she could be, with tenderness and warmth that affected him more strongly than the sexual charge of her touch.

She hadn't felt like this for years, and she'd given up hope long ago of feeling it with him. "Cranleigh Hall," she murmured. Her forehead touched his and she rubbed noses with him. "I waited for you to come down. I wanted to dance with you, and I thought I'd see…" she kissed him again, laughter starting up from her throat.

"See what?"

"If a Time Lord who enjoyed his body enough to play cricket could enjoy other sports. And what happens? You find secret passages, a body, and get accused of murder. In terms of playing hard to get, you're an Olympian, Doctor."

"Natural talent, no doubt." His hands spanned her waist; he drew her closer. "This can't go on, Tegan."

"I know. You're leaving."

She came to rest against him, cradled in his arms. He whispered against her hair, "'Ye Gods! Annihilate but space and time, and make two lovers happy.'" Tegan kissed his throat and he sighed.

"I wouldn't ask a favor of a God who would do that. I've seen enough annihilation, thank you." She traced a fingertip along his neck over the rim of his collar. "I'll tell you what's going to happen, Doctor. We're going to go back to the TARDIS. We're going to have a splendid time making love. Afterwards, I will collect a few keepsakes while you dig Turlough out of whatever snug place he's found himself. Then you're going to leave and never come back."

"Tegan, I should not—" She put her fingers to his mouth to stop the words.

"What, break my heart? I'm indestructible, remember?" She put her arms around his neck and with her cheek to his, whispered in his ear, "Besides, it's too late."

_Indeed._ He stroked a hand down Tegan's back and with his eyes closed, breathed in the fragrance that rose from the red hot pace of human vitality. No human was really ordinary once he got to know one. They were all alien and exotic, cramming as much life as they could into ten decades.

"All right." The Doctor helped Tegan to her feet. "I yield. For once, you've won the argument." He kissed her hand.

"For once? As I recall I've won lots of them," she said mock protesting.

"Maybe we should call it a draw?"

"We both win? I like that." She kept hold of his hand.

Looking back from this height the way they came, he could see the TARDIS. It would be a faster walk back, and not only because it was down hill all the way.

_fin_

For this is Wisdom; to love, to live  
To take what fate, or the Gods may give.  
To ask no question, to make no prayer,  
To kiss the lips and caress the hair,  
Speed passion's ebb as you greet its flow  
To have, - to hold - and - in time, - let go!  
- - - -Laurence Hope


End file.
